Hamlet: a novelization
by Goldenpupil
Summary: Hamlet written in novel form, in a modern day setting. Based partially on the RSC film of Hamlet.
1. Chapter 1

**Hamlet: a novelization**

Hamlet written in novel form, in a modern day setting. Based partially on the RSC film of Hamlet.

Disclaimer: Besides the writing, virtually nothing in this story is my intellectual property; characters, plot and settings belong to Shakespeare and the excellent film by RSC. No copyright infringements intended, no personal wealth gained.

NB: This is mostly a writing excercise, updates will be slow

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><p>It was a dark night. Unnaturally foggy.<p>

Francisco squinted though the suffocating mist as he patrolled the dank, cement-walled walkway by the palace court yard, his heavy boots slapping rhythmically in the wet puddles on the concrete floor. His green King's Sentry uniform flapped behind him, flickering in the dim patches of moonlight that filtered through the fog. As he walked, he stroked his rifle discreetly with a stiff finger and weighed the benefits of lighting a cigarette to steady his nerves against the chance of being caught smoking on duty.

A sudden sound of mechanical whirling. Francisco stiffened, almost jumped – but didn't, being, after all, one of the King's finest guards.

It was one of those goddamned security cameras – they're mounted everywhere nowadays. No wonder he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.

Somewhere, a door slammed. He swallowed, and checked his watch. Bernardo was late. To hell with it. He pulled out a cigarette from an inner coat pocket – lit it in a practiced movement – and took a deep drag.

Sudden movement to his left – Francisco dropped the cigarette and raised his rifle, squinting at the dark shape in the gloom –

"Who's there?" Could it be the spirit, back aga-

"Long live the King!"

Francisco's grip on the gun relaxed, but he did not lower it.

"Is that you, Bernardo?"

"Yeah." The figure walked through the fog, revealing the green coat of a fellow King's Sentry, hands lowering from where they were raised.

"You're right on time, you are." Muttered Francisco irritably, lowering his rifle. Bernardo nodded apologetically, "It's midnight Francisco – go to bed. You look like you need it."

"Many thanks." Francisco nodded, and cast another look around into the gloom, "It's a cold night, and I am not at ease…" Bernardo tensed.

"Your shift – was it … _undisturbed_?"

Jerkily, Francisco nodded, then started at a sound from the opposite direction Bernardo had come.

"Show yourself!" Francisco barked sharply, raising his weapon once more.

"Easy-" Another green clad King's Sentry stepped into view, accompanied by a stocky, dark skinned man, appearing to be in his late twenties, dressed in a commoner's light brown suit jacket. The young man's otherwise easy-going features were presently sharpened in a faint scowl as he eyed the weapons directed at him.

"Marcellus," Bernardo greeted the new-comer King's Sentry, sounding relieved, "And - would this gentleman be Horatio?"

"Last time I checked." The young man – Horatio – replied dryly. A young university book worm, judging by his clothes and his attitude.

Francisco had seen enough. He saluted the fellow Kings Sentries and spared a nod for the student, then headed back towards his quarters, wishing for nothing more than a long smoke and a warm bed.

o o o

"It comes, every night, the moment the clock strikes midnight." Bernardo had been recounting his strange tale in a clipped, nervous whisper. Beside him, the silent Marcellus' fingers gave a slight twitch, as if missing a nerve-steadying cigarette to hold between them.

Bernardo continued. "There is no doubt it will be coming soon tonight. You will understand, once you see it, why it brings such fear to us." The last sentence was directed at Horatio, who still had a small frown of doubt on his face.

Horatio opened his mouth, perhaps meaning to express his scepticism, when Bernardo's face contorted as he pointed over Horatio's shoulder, his mouth working for a brief moment before he cried hoarsely: "There! Behind you!"

Horatio turned to face a sight that had his blood run cold.

Weaving through the fog was the smoky outline of a human figure. It was tall and majestic, undoubtedly a man, but it seemed to be made of nothing but grey vapour and shadow, shifting and rippling as it paused in front of the three men standing frozen before it.

Horatio was the first to wake from the stupor. "But - that's impossible."

Bernardo's voice was an octave higher. "It's him! Can you see? The armour, that face …"

"Speak to it, Horatio!" Marcellus's deep voice barked.

Horatio's eyes were transfixed, staring at the apparition as if he could not look away. "What are you?" He murmured, breathing heavily with adrenaline, "Why do you walk these halls? What horrible deed or undone business disturbs you, that you cannot rest in peace?"

The ghost took a step closer. Bernardo gasped. Its eyes, though smoky grey like its body, glinted with an unearthly light.

"Speak!" Horatio shouted.

The ghost glidedsuddenly forward, legs not moving, sliding impossibly quickly along the concrete floor. The men scattered to the sides, plastering themselves against the walls.

It had passed the men in a blink of an eye. It slowed as suddenly as it had speeded, then, continuing up the corridor without giving the slightest indication of noticing the men, was swallowed by the ever-present fog.

TBC

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><p>AN: Please review! If you think this is trash, you must tell me, otherwise I will keep uploading trash on to this website - wouldn't that be terrible?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Plot, characters and settings are not my intellectual property. No copyright infringements intended.

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><p>The gray image of the video flickered on the laptop monitor, slightly warped around the edges by the curved lens of the security camera. The short stretch of concrete walkway in the background was just discernable through the thick mist pressing against the screen.<p>

The blurred figures of two King's Sentries and a third, jacket-clad man wove in and out of the field of vision. They seemed to be chasing something imaginary, for they darted up and down the corridor, soundlessly shouting, pointing, and on one occasion, swinging a rifle – at what appeared to be thin air.

At one point, they seemed to have encircled their invisible quarry, and approached some point between them slowly and cautiously. Suddenly, as if something had exploded in front of them, they leapt back in union, arms wind-milling wildly-

"There."

Horatio clicked the mouse and leaned forward to scrutinize the paused image on the screen. His and the Sentries' figures were frozen comically as they leaned back with their arms in the air. The space they were cringing from was nothing more than a blank stretch of fog.

"But the ghost was right there!" Bernardo protested, "Bursting before our eyes in that horrible light... How -?"

"It seems" said Horatio, straightening from the screen, but still frowning thoughtfully at the monitor, "either the ghost was a figment of all of our imaginations, or it cannot be recorded on tape. Just as well that there's no record." He added quietly, mostly to himself.

"What does this mean?" Marcellus' deep voice was sharp.

"It means," said Horatio slowly, gaze not wavering from the screen, "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark."

A pause.

"You believe it has to do with the mobilization?" Marcellus asked in lower tones.

"What-?" Horatio looked up, surprised. "The mobilization is a result of the threats from Norway. These days, it's a political open secret."

"This is different." Horatio returned to the still image, muttering, apparently to himself, "Theology studies certainly didn't prepare me for this." He paused, then added softly, "But I _have_ read some records... vivid descriptions of spirits rising from their graves when Rome fell... nocturnal creatures that would cringe at the crowing of the rooster and the smallest shaft of sunlight..." He looked up at Marcellus. "I would never have thought anything of it had I not seen this with my own eyes."

"We must inform the King! It is our first duty to report to him!"

Horatio and Marcellus turned to Bernardo, staring as if they had forgotten his presence in the room.

Horatio replied first, carefully, weighing his words. "We will not be taken seriously, Bernardo, if we have no proof," he said, gesturing at the ghost-less video. "Let us properly investigate this phenomenon first. Once we are certain we are not mistaken, Marcellus and I will see that this is reported to the authorities."

"Soldier, you have done well." Marcellus added, removing the disk from the laptop and presenting it to Bernardo to return to the surveillance room.

Bernardo accepted the disk with a solemn salute. He nodded at Horatio and turned on his heel, heading out of the small storage room and down the hall at a quick march.

Horatio waited until Bernardo's footsteps had completely faded before turning to Marcellus. "We'd best inform prince Hamlet about this," he said without preamble.

At Marcellus' brisk nod, Horatio packed up his laptop and slung it over his shoulder. He gave a sudden wry smile. "It is his father's ghost that's haunting us, after all."

TBC

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><p>AN: Happy to read criticism in the reviews!


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